To See the Soul
by Autumn Draft
Summary: "She had allowed it at first – a few moments of blissful albeit forbidden surrender to that ever present urge to hold his gaze, to lose herself in those hollows of blue." Sometimes there's just no going back. GSR.


'I need you.'

The warm Vegas night air washed over her through the open doorway. A loose strand of her hair swayed gently in the soft breeze, tickling her cheek. The night was quite. Darkness had begun to consume the sky, consuming the remaining pink and orange hues. His eyes fixed on hers. She stood still, one hand still on the handle, the other resting against the wood near her chin.

He'd said it before.

A lifetime ago - an identity ago. In a time when they were close and familiar and comfortable, he'd said those words exactly. She mentally cringes. A painful tinge of recognition strikes her heart as she recalls who they were when he'd last uttered those words. She remembers how casual the moment had been, how normal, as if he'd just mentioned the weather. He had needed her. Simple, innocent, familiar. Her annoyance at the time after being pulled from a convention added a nice touch in her recollection; a pleasant reminder that there had been a time when they were close enough to get annoyed at one another. That same annoyance which close friends share together, a promise of immediate forgiveness hidden beneath every confrontational notion. Were they ever that comfortable with each other?

It seemed ludicrous to her now, the thought that they had once shared a sort of …friendship? Or was it an artificial intimacy? A _relationship_, of some kind? A bond? Yes that felt right. A _bond_. She'd always had difficulty in quantifying it, that _thing_ which existed between them. And its morphing over the years certainly didn't help. But, come what may, she could distinctly remember being close. Close enough at least to brush off any harmless workplace flirting knowing it was harmless fun, if perhaps a bit flattering.

But they were different people then.

Years of familiarity had brought them close. That and a mutual curiosity about the inner workings of the world around them. If she concentrates - if she really forces her mind to focus in on those fragments of memories to the point where it almost hurts, she can vaguely recall a time when they were happy together; a time when they would spend countless glorious hours in each other's company. Discussing forensics, art, music, Shakespeare, poetry, the weather. It didn't matter.

Her mind is flooded with memories from San Francisco and she finds it difficult to breathe. In a fraction of a second she remembers her former life, her most cherished memories flashing before her in a chaotic spurt of images, thoughts, feelings. In a time since passed they would spend hours in a small coffee shop across from the university, the relaxed hours spent sipping cheap coffee in a booth by the window, vibrant afternoon chaos passing them by outside.

_Fallen leaves danced in the soft breeze in the street outside. Students with overstuffed backpacks strolled along the busy road two, three at a time. Smiling, gossiping, laughing. Some would glide past on their bikes. Others hurried to their next class. Inside the coffee shop, her eyes would be fixed on his, as if any stray glance would harm her chances of learning anything from the brilliant scientist across the table who, for whatever reason, had taken the time to further enlighten her in the vast world of forensics._

_Often when the conversation shifted to lecture material she would find herself sitting up straighter, attentive, index finger finding the tip of her ponytail twirling it slowly, lazily. She would later criticize herself for that, reprimanding herself for this weird little habit, which she swore to correct. Of course, he would hardly notice. She could recall one particular conversation when he fumbled through his briefcase to retrieve a blank sheet of paper, as pen in hand he expertly sketched electron orbitals. _

'_It's called the photoelectric effect,' he explained. Outside a boy called out to his friends to wait up. _

_She raised her eyes to meet his, her coffee cup cradled snugly between her palms. Steam rose and twirled above the mug. The warm afternoon sunshine poured through the window of the tiny booth, illuminating her soft features with an orange glow. Her enthusiastic eyes never strayed from his soft blue ones. _

_His gaze turned to the page as he continued. 'When you shine a light on a metal surface, electrons are emitted. The light packets hit the electrons,' he drew a hasty arrow on the page, 'like this. The electrons are then released from their orbitals. It's almost magical!' She took another sip of coffee, careful not to shift her eyes away from his diagram in fear of discouraging him from continuing. 'But the light needs exactly the right amount of energy to do this.' She tilted her head, a subtle gesture, which he understood immediately. 'Well basically we need exactly the right amount of energy to make it work otherwise nothing will happen.' His coffee, long since ignored, had gone cold. He took a moment to ensure she shared his enthusiasm. Her posture told him the feeling was mutual, and he continued. 'If the light energy falls short of the minimum energy required, even by the slightest amount, nothing will change. It remains exactly as it was before.'_

_She frowned. 'What happens if it's close enough?'_

'_Nothing changes, it's an all-or-nothing reaction.' He placed his pen down on the table, satisfied._

'_Even if it comes really close.'_

_The world outside continued to hurry past them._

Looking back on that moment, she couldn't help but wonder if that conversation had somehow sealed their fate in the years to come. How many times had they come close to acknowledging a relationship? So painfully, tantalizingly close. But, professional or personal, there was always a barrier standing in the way.

It was his eyes that had allowed her to hope. His lips had denied her once; of this she was very sensible. But his eyes had told her what his lips would not.

_He'd not even tried to hide the fact that he had been watching her. How could he? A chance look across the table and her gaze was held by his. She had allowed it at first – a few moments of blissful albeit forbidden surrender to that ever-present urge to hold his gaze, to lose herself in those hollows of blue. She was lost. But a modicum of sense had hit her and she had torn her eyes away, back to the evidence she had been processing. She had chanced a second glance to prove it had all been in her head. What were the odds she would be greeted with the same piercing gaze, unbroken since she pulled away? Only this time, she had not torn her eyes away._

_Even if she knew she should. _

It was in those moments she had allowed herself to believe that there was something there. _Yes_, she had convinced herself, it was nothing if not real. She had felt it. She had felt _him_. Not by mere physical touch _per se_, but by something else entirely. As his eyes had pierced her very soul, she knew he had been there, somehow. She knew they had somehow been intimate.

But close simply did not suffice.

And so they remained unchanged, working together professionally, no longer as friends but as boss and subordinate. A far cry from what she'd had in mind when she left the comforts and familiarities of San Francisco. But then, what exactly had been in her mind?

The years had passed much quicker than they probably should. As they worked together side by side for years on end they had somehow managed to grow apart. Chasing down the 'ones that got away', when fresh evidence gave the team hope once more. She partook in those moments of collective exhilaration when the team finally nailed the guy. She had smiled, thanked, and been thanked. She had consoled those less fortunate families who she could not help. She had wept, alone, at the memories of the victim's faces; had been haunted by them, by their accusing eyes, morphed by the darkness of her apartment into sinister scepters come back to torment her for not bringing them the closure they had needed. And she found little pleasure in her work of late, with no comfort between those tougher cases, no relief, and no separation. She grew increasingly involved with her cases, whilst at the same time mourning the loss of her favorite comfort.

As her mind returned to the present Sara became aware of a sudden emptiness deep within, as if all the pain and rejection and loss of the past few years had happened at once. What happens at the center of a black hole may be one of the great mysteries of science, but Sara felt she could quantify it in that very moment as she was pulled back to the present to taste the bitterness of reality once more. They were no longer who she knew them to be.

Then he reached out to her and she was frozen.

Unable to process what was happening, she allowed him to raise a hand to her cheek, allowed him to brush her skin so softly she felt every nerve ending stand suddenly to attention. Her mind screamed not to allow this, not to allow him to mislead her. No good could become of this; surely she was sensible enough to know it?

Her heart simply said shut up.

Under his gentle caress she sought answers in his eyes. Exactly what was this? What she found there both elated and terrified her.

'I'm so sorry.'

He didn't need to say it – she could already see it written in his eyes. He had opened up to her. The gates had fallen; it was written all over his face. He was suddenly so vulnerable to her. There was something missing from his persona; he was normally so guarded around her and so long as she'd known him she could always see the intangible barriers between them. But now…

After years of falling just short, finally it was enough.


End file.
